


Titles Are Hard

by taylor_tut



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, James T. Kirk Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22935316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A short fic from my tumblr in which Jim gets hurt on a mission and tries to ignore it until he knows his crew is safe.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 151





	Titles Are Hard

Jim's head was swimming when he stepped off the transporter platform in a way that it hadn't since his first months of using it. That kind of head rush he'd long-since gotten used to, and this was different, nearly incapacitating. 

It might have been so if his focus weren't elsewhere. 

"Sulu," he called frantically, staggering to the side. Spock was right there to steady him, a hand on his arm providing no more contact than strictly necessary to allow him to gain his balance. 

When the bomb had gone off, the smoke and dust had been so blinding that he'd lost sight of everyone, but Sulu had been the one in the most immediate danger.

Really, if a large piece of shrapnel hadn't pierced his abdomen and brought him to his knees, he'd probably have been moving around so quickly that Chekov wouldn't have been able to get his signal and beam him back.

Little blessings, right? Bones would have a field day with the irony. 

"Here, Sir," Sulu's voice replied, melting the icy fear in his gut so rapidly hat it made him nauseous. 

Perhaps that was the blood loss. 

"Captain?" Spock was asking, the grip on his arm tightening as he seemed to be unable still to find his balance. "You're bleeding."

"What about the others?" Kirk ignored him, eyes wild and fixated on Chekov and Scotty. 

"Safe," Scotty replied. "Doctor McCoy has them in the med bay for examination, but the worst of it seems to be some scrapes and bruises. Are you alright?" 

Apparently, the wavering in his vision was making him sway as he was trying to keep his feet beneath him, trying to keep the world from tilting. He tugged at his collar to try to let some of the heat escape from where it was swirling between his chest and his chin. 

"Fine," he lied, shaking his head. It was time to push away from Spock; his reliance on another person to keep him balanced was getting suspicious. 

When he tried to take a step toward the door, the motion made his stomach flip and a searing pain rip through his abdomen, bringing him to his knees. 

"Keptin!" Chekov was shouting. He could hear people moving around him and he was aware that someone had dropped to one knee beside him, but everything was beginning to melt together in a sickening blur. 

"Doctor McCoy, you are needed urgently on the transporter bay," Spock barked into his comm, answering the question of whose hand was resting on his back. "Lie back, Captain," he commanded. His vision darkened against the pain of being pulled to rest with his back against Spock's chest. 

"Stay awake," Scotty commanded, and Kirk glared weakly. 

"My ship, I make th'rules," he slurred, before passing out. 

When he woke up, it was in a bed in the med bay, much less sore than when he'd fallen unconscious but no more alone. Spock and Sulu were playing a game of chess atop a hovering gameboard, while Chekov watched (and advised—playing chess against a Vulcan was usually a team effort) and Scotty stared intently at a tablet, more likely than not designing something new which would horrify Bones to his core. 

Speaking of Bones, Kirk thought that he must have a sixth sense for when he began to wake, becuase he rounded the corner in his white scrubs, tricorder in hand and hyposprays surely nearby. 

"Jim," he greeted in a dangerously scolding tone that probably just meant he was relieved. "You're awake." 

The attention of the room shifted to him, and he tried to sit up against the pillows, but the pain stopped him, and he sunk back into a recumbent position with a wince and a groan. 

"What happened?" he asked, and Bones rolled his eyes. He was already scanning with the tricorder, expression unreadable. 

"I think you know."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "I mean after I got hit with shrapnel and beamed back to the ship." 

"Ah, yeah, after that," Bones started sardonically. "After that, you didn't tell anyone you were injured, scrambled around looking for your crew, and tried to get back to the bridge before you passed out from a laceration that nearly took out your spleen. Another ten minutes and you'd have been dealing with sepsis."

Jim smiled with dry, cracked lips. "Lucky you work fast, then, right?" he asked. It earned him the type of glare that said that Bones was not joking about this yet. 

"I'd threaten to put you in a damn bubble," he said sternly, "if I thought there was an impediment in the galaxy I could put in front'a you that'd stop you from gettin' yourself killed."

With a sigh of relief as Bones apparently noticed without him having to say it that his pain meds were beginning to wear off, he met Bones' eyes in a gaze that locked him in, always did and always would. 

"I owe you," he said. 

"Again."

"Yeah. Again. Next time we're on shore leave, drinks are on me."

"You know, I'd much rather you just promise to at least try to cut down on your life-threatening crises."

Kirk made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "That, too," he agreed noncommittally. "What are you thinking, one a week?"

Bones jammed a sedative into his neck and he could feel the effects almost immediately. This was their routine so often that he didn't even need to ask what it was, because he knew he'd been given a blood transfusion and several medications and this was a strong antihistamine to keep the inevitable reaction in check. 

Well, that would be an improvement," he accused. Jim scoffed, but he was too tired to argue. He turned a dizzy, drugged gaze on the other occupants of the room. 

"Thanks for coming," he said.

"Wouldn't miss it," Scotty replied. 

Spock nodded. "We were worried," he said. For someone who claimed to have difficulty understanding human emotions, he certainly knew how to manipulate Kirk's. Was that art or instinct?

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm fine now."

Chekov smiled, but none of the rest of them did. He knew they were disappointed in him for not saying something sooner, and he wanted to make that right, but he was fighting to keep his eyes open. 

"Get some sleep, Captian," Spock instructed gently. "We will be here when you wake." 

Kirk had no choice but to obey. 


End file.
